Be It Ever So Humble
by animal2134
Summary: A hero returns to Stalag 13 one last time after the war.


I don't own Hogan's Heroes or any of the characters. This is solely fan made.

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I walked slowly along the weed filled compound. Gazing up at the abandoned guard towers and torn barbed wire it was though I had walked back in time. I meandered my way across the compound looking at the rec hall. Chuckling I recalled the look on Klink's face when the "missing" Tiger tank had magically appeared and barreled down the door chasing the Germans. The clothes lines were still attached to the buildings but were devoid of our tattered uniforms. Klink's office still stood where it always had. The paint was peeling and the boards were rotting but it was here. I could almost see the Kommandant squinting at me. "Prisoners!" he would say. "Dismissed!"

I continued toward the barracks, my home for several years, Barracks 2. Quietly I opened the door and stepped in. The door groaned loudly on it's rusted hinges announcing my presence. The building was empty, the bunks and table bare. I imagined little Le Beau cooking over the stove feeding a rotund German sergeant. "Schultz!" I laughed out loud. As if by speaking his name could bring him back. But no, he was home with his family as he should be. "Little cockroach," he would say with his mouth filled with strudel. "You have to give my wife this recipe. You cook better than she does!"

"Knock it off Schultzie!" an imaginary harsh English voice would reply. "I'm beating Carter 'ere."

I stared at the table where Newkirk had won so many hands. The ruddy Englishman would have stuck an ace or two up his sleeve.

"Golly I don't know how he does it." Cater would complain looking at his cards. "He beats me every time." I still remember Carter's boyish face and his expressions when he learned he would get to use his dearly beloved bombs. "Boy! This is going to be a big one!" He would exclaim. "It's gonna go BOOM!" gesturing wildly with his hands.

"Knock it off Andrew!" Newkirk would say grumpily, pushing the boy's hat over his eyes. But in truth Newkirk liked Carter, we all did.

I walked around the barracks touching each bunk remembering the man who once occupied it. "Mills, Kelley, Johnson, Olson, Carter, Le Beau, Kinchloe." I stopped glancing down at the African American's bottom bunk. Of course we blew up the tunnel when the American troops came through the front gate. It was a shame really, but necessary. Kinch would spend nights sitting down there attentively sending messages to London. Soft spoken, loyal man that he was, you could always depend on Kinch. Like Newkirk said, "When I'm in a Sticky Wicket there's no one I'd rather have be'ind me than Kinch."

I left the bunks and the tables behind heading toward the private room off to the side. Forcing the door open, for it was in poor shape like the last, I walked about the office. The men would come here to regroup and plot. And sometimes Colonel Klink. I cracked a smile remembering the German officer sneaking across the compound to seek advice from his enemy. But we weren't really enemies, we leaned on each other too much. Klink once told me, "Colonel Hogan, when I have men like you for an enemy, I don't really need any friends." It was in fact Colonel Klink that played a large role in our schemes, he just didn't know it.

Yes this was where it all began and ended. Men grew stronger here, lives torn apart here. And now it's all over. Sighing I laid my hand on the worn desk that had seen so many years. My eyes fell on a small burn at the corner of the table. Laughing, I recalled the unfortunate incident of Carter's acid spilling. It ate a hole right through the map we were looking at!

"Ready to go Dad?" I looked down to see the small boy standing beside me.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"This is really a sad looking place." The boy took in the room with its wooden walls and bare floor.

"I suppose it is, Matt." My eyes rested upon the same surfaces as his but I saw something he didn't. I saw men gathered together for a common cause, to crush the Nazi Regime. Men who became brothers, no matter their looks or origin. I saw my home, my headquarters, and my friends. "But like I told the boys, 'be it ever so humble, there's no place like Stalag 13.'"


End file.
